No Regrets
by FerryBerry
Summary: A night out with a friend reveals some high school regrets that may be more easily fixed than Rachel thinks. M for a reason.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**A/N:** Holy. Crap. I am exhausted. And I know everyone wants updates, but I really needed to cheer myself up. Hope you understand. And since this was a 'cheer myself up' fest, you can feel free to hate it. I don't mind. :)

**Warning:** Yes, this is smut. It's a wee bit explicit, too. Gasp.

**No Regrets**

If someone had told Rachel four years ago that she would one day be spending a hot summer evening tossing back beers and whiling away the hours with reminiscences of high school with one Noah Puckerman, she'd have promptly recommended they seek a mental health professional and been on her way without a second thought to that poor soul. Now, in the last months of a humid Ohio summer before she would be whisked away to New York City and begin matriculating with Juilliard's class of 2016, it was one of the only things she could imagine doing.

"I can't believe it."

"Neither can I."

"Finn _seriously_ told you he wanted to get back together with you because you're the only girl he's ever met who knows how to bake banana bread to where it's not too dry and not too moist?"

Noah was leaning on his elbow as he asked this, craning over the bar in order to meet her gaze with his own incredulous one. Rachel hadn't had enough to drink to start giggling uncontrollably at his disbelieving to the point of comical expression, but that didn't mean she didn't want to. She sipped at her lidless beer to curb the urge and nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes, that's precisely what he said," she said at length, and Noah leaned back in his seat again, shaking his head in disgust. "I told him that with that criteria, he may as well be proposing a relationship to his mother, but he informed me that her attempts to make banana bread have only produced lumps of inedible coal."

She let her smile turn wry as she met her friend's yet-again disbelieving stare before they both burst into uncontainable giggles; Noah set his bottle on the bar in order to keep from spilling it, and wiped his eyes of their laughter-induced watering. Rachel squeaked a little in her attempts to muffle her amusement.

"I don't think he entirely understood his own words until I added that she's already married anyway."

Noah snorted and they went back into belly-shaking laughter easily, the mohawked boy again wiping his eyes as it began to fade. Rachel smiled to herself, body quaking with occasional after-giggles, and peeled at the label on her bottle before taking another swig.

Under normal circumstances, two underage soon-to-be college students would likely be ushered out of a bar like this with a heavy reprimand. Of course, under normal circumstances, Rachel Berry wouldn't be caught dead breaking a law _and_ getting drunk. However, her friendship with Noah had…loosened her, somewhat. And no, not in the sense of her libido, but she was now 'capable of experiencing teenage fun and actually appearing somewhat normal in the act', in Kurt's words. It helped that Noah's uncle happened to tend this bar and not only refrained from turning them in, but also made sure they were safely home before sunrise, in the instance that they were far too trashed to even remember what the word 'home' meant, let alone in which direction it laid.

"Man," Noah chuckled, shaking his head. "Dude just never took a hint, did he?"

"Not one," she agreed, then abruptly sat up. The world threatened to tilt, but it soon righted itself and she recalled what she'd been meaning to say. "Fortunately I will no longer have to worry about giving him any, with him off in Columbus. And better yet, me soon off in New York." She grinned lazily, but his face fell almost instantly.

"Do we really have to talk about your grand adventure to the big city?" he groaned. Her grin dropped into a pout and he sighed, relenting the tiniest bit. "I know, your wildest dreams are about to be fulfilled and shit, you're very excited. I get it."

Rachel smiled mischievously, bending over to rub his hairy forearm sweetly and cooing, "Aw, Noah. I know you're going to miss me, but I promise I'll come visit whenever I can." He growled at her. "And you had better come see me during the holidays to alleviate all the damage the Christmas cheer I'll be constantly surrounded with will do to my Jewishness."

She hastily set her half-empty beer bottle on the bar upon the realization that she had just invented a new word. That was always the signal for it being time to stop, and time to start on injections of water so as to avoid a vicious morning hangover.

"You know I will," he mumbled, so as not to be heard, but hear she did, and she grinned happily at him.

"I am going to miss you, Noah," she said sincerely, and he looked up from his beer bottle to quirk his lip at her—the closest he would come to displaying genuine affection in public. She was pleased and sank back on her stool, releasing his arm from her light grip after giving it a squeeze.

Noah cleared his throat of any huskiness it had been carrying and rose up, lifting his bottle in a sort of salute despite the fact that she had abandoned him in his endeavor to get completely smashed.

"All right, so, regrets from high school?" he prompted, shooting his signature eyebrow-waggle her way when he added, "Besides not taking your chance to get down with this." He grinned widely.

Rachel merely chortled and shook her head, pausing their banter yet again to consider the question seriously. She knew he was truly curious, but she wasn't sure she wanted to give him the real answer. Her high school experience could have been better, no doubt about it, but she had never really regretted anything _she_ had done (except for the crack house thing, of course). It was the actions of others that had made high school a living hell. But one name did pop into her head upon hearing the word 'regret.' It never failed.

A flush crept up her cheeks at the reminder and she echoed the name quietly when it sounded in her head.

"Quinn Fabray."

When she spied his head snap around to face her in her peripheral vision, she abruptly forgot her previous decision to forgo anymore drinking for the evening and occupied her mouth with the bottle, fighting to ignore the heat intensifying in her face and neck while Noah scrutinized her.

"What?" he asked, a little laugh in his voice.

She chugged as slowly as she could without drowning herself, and he waited patiently until she had the last dregs from the bottle undoubtedly drained and could no longer use it as an excuse. The now empty bottle sank down to chin level and she hiccupped as she met his curious gaze.

"Yep," she said simply, and Noah frowned in exasperation. She knew he was expecting explanation, but this was precisely the part she was hesitant to tell him. But…really, what could it hurt? It was only Noah, and besides, Quinn didn't have a reputation at McKinley to worry about protecting any longer. Rachel squirmed, twisting the bottle in circles in her lap as she said quietly, her cheeks heating all the more, "We kissed once."

She winced in anticipation of the impending blowup, the exclamations of hurt at never being privy to this information before, the yelps of shock that Quinn Fabray, Queen of McKinley (literally; she won prom queen like she'd wanted), had once locked lips with Rachel Berry, Queen of Slushies (literally; Santana made her a crown…made of a used slushie cup she had thrown on her owl sweatshirt). But none of that ever came, and after a few moments of torture squinting at the beer bottle in her hands, Rachel chanced a covert glance at her friend.

And swiftly smacked his arm when she realized that he was, in fact, muttering, "Mailman, mailman; damn you, Finn, why doesn't this _work_? Grandma, Figgins…." His eyes shot open in surprise at the assault, and then he grinned at her affronted expression. She spared him an angry huff and eye-roll before moving to squeeze the bottle between her legs and execute a proper Diva Cold Shoulder, folding her arms across her chest.

Noah laughed heartily at her. "What? You tell me the hottest girls at McKinley made out, and then expect it _not_ to rev my engine a little?"

He had a point, she supposed. This _was_ Noah Puckerman. But still. She narrowed her eyes at him over her shoulder.

"We did not make out; we kissed. Once. And, all right, so perhaps for a moment tongues were involved, but I'd hardly consider that a true makeout session when—"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," he interjected, placing a calming hand on her suddenly flailing arms, and drawing her gaze to his. He peered at her seriously. "So you guys _really_ kissed?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Well, yes. What, did you think I was lying or something?"

Noah sighed and closed his eyes. "Finn mud wrestling, Sylvester in a bikini tracksuit, Schuester's hair—OW! That one actually hurt!" He rubbed his arm vigorously, shooting her a wounded look.

"Sorry."

She reached to rub tenderly at the spot, frowning sympathetically when he hissed. He shrugged her off and frowned, leaning forward as though to get back down to business. She supposed that was accurate, since he said lowly, "Okay, so, details, woman. How'd it happen?"

The flush was back to her cheeks instantly and she squirmed on the stool as covertly as possible, hoping she wouldn't accidentally draw attention to the movement. From the leer suddenly overtaking his expression, she hadn't been successful. She avoided his gaze, toying with the rim of the bottle.

"Well, you know after the whole Finn-Quinn-Sam fiasco, she and I were both attempting to live the single life and focus on our hefty ambitions," she reminded him, and spied him nodding out of the corner of her eye. "Since the glee girls were really our only friends at the school at that point, but Tina had Mike while Mercedes's relationship with Anthony was budding, and Santana and Brittany, well…had each other." She rolled her eyes fondly and attempted to ignore Noah's mutter of, "Coach Sylvester, bikini tracksuit."

"This meant that Quinn and I spent a great deal of time together, and we formed a tentative friendship. Nothing particularly special, I suppose, but we…enjoyed each other." Rachel didn't even have to glance at Noah to know he was grinning. "Not like that," she said sternly, and he just shrugged. "But, anyway, one morning I was practicing scales in the choir room and she was watching me—she had taken this up as a part of her routine, by this point—and when I had finished, she told me she had never actually said how beautiful she found my voice. I confirmed that this was true, but then, I didn't expect it of her. She smiled at me and…it completely took my breath away. It was as though I had never realized how beautiful she was until that moment. I knew it objectively, of course, but it had never given me butterflies as it did in that moment. I was embarrassed by my seeming sudden attraction and attempted to look away, but she caught my chin and told me so softly I simply _had_ to lean in that my voice was 'very, very beautiful', and…then it happened. Our lips were together and I was…in a state of bliss. I had never felt anything so perfect. It was like…like the best moments of my life had come together in those seconds to give me the most wonderful feeling imaginable. I never wanted it to end. But when it did, she…she told me nothing could happen between us right then, and she left. She stopped coming to watch me in the mornings, and whatever semblance of a friendship we once had was gone again."

Silence fell between them for a long moment, their little bubble only permeated by the low beats from the juke box Noah's uncle always had going and the beer sloshing in its bottle as Noah tossed back a swig. He sighed and shook his head as he lowered it.

"Damn."

Rachel couldn't help a huff of a chuckle, the melancholy that had taken over her demeanor lightening at his bluntness. She smiled wryly at him. "Yep, pretty much."

"And _damn_. You guys were deep in it," he observed, wide-eyed and blinking as he processed this new information.

"Well, I was," she amended quietly, but he appeared not to notice.

"So, what, you've been pining for her ever since?" he prodded, but not meanly. "Cause, come to think of it, you really haven't been with anybody since Finn. And…neither has she, actually."

Rachel shrugged lightly. "We were both committed to our status as single, independent women, I suppose. And, as for me, no one really came along who caught my interest. I guess you _could_ say I've been…pining for her ever since." She sighed and dropped her chin to her palm.

He bobbed his head. "Well?"

She swiveled her head to frown at him. "Well what?"

"Well, aren't you gonna do something about it?" he asked, as though it were obvious. She scoffed and turned her stool away, but he snatched her thigh and yanked her back around. "No, listen. Look, you've got…what is it? A week? Before you hop a plane to New York, and she isn't sliding on over to Penn State for two. This'll be one of the last times you're both in Lima for a while, you're both adults, all you gotta do is call her up and fulfill that little high school dream, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows so there was no confusion.

Rachel stared at him for almost a full thirty seconds before informing him sagely, "You're insane," and turning away again.

He pulled her back. "I'm not insane; I'm a genius. This is perfectamundo, all right? One night, no strings, just sex. One more great night with your high school wet dream before you fly the coop, you get her out of your system before NYC, where you can enjoy bigger fish in the lake without thinking about the little fry you left behind in the pond."

"Involving fish in this analogy is making it a little creepy."

"One night with your big fantasy, Rach. Who wouldn't go for that?" he said excitedly, ignoring her statement entirely. "And if she doesn't want to? Well, who the fuck's gonna know now that high school's over? Nobody! You're home free. No embarrassment, no strings, no nothing. Just _one_ phone call. That's all."

Rachel took a moment to seriously consider the grinning mohawked boy and his words of 'wisdom.' A night with Quinn. A thrill went through her at the idea, layering her entire body with heat rather than just her cheeks this time, and she fought a losing battle with a shudder that traveled down her spine. Did she want it? Hell, yes. It was all she'd wanted since the moment she felt Quinn's lips on hers a year or so ago.

Well, not exactly what she'd wanted. She didn't just want sex. No, somewhere along the way, between boyfriends and pregnancies and catfights and choir room kisses, Rachel Berry had fallen head over heels for Quinn Fabray. She didn't want a one-night stand. She wanted a Relationship. But the likelihood of that happening was worse than slim to none; it was just plain none. Quinn would never want that, and Rachel didn't want to get hurt again.

She didn't want to hurt the way she had in those seconds after Quinn had left the choir room, when her heart sank to the ground with a terrible ache and she'd had to sit at the piano bench just to calm her breathing, telling herself over and over that she was being utterly ridiculous. But…on the flip side, she would take whatever the blonde would give her, and if that meant a one-night stand? Well, that was just fine and dandy with Rachel.

Noah was right, too. If Quinn wasn't interested in the proposition, it was no harm, no foul. No more McKinley gossip mill to destroy either of their reputations; and in a week's time, Rachel would be safely tucked away in New York, far from the scathing tongue and harsh hazel eyes of one Quinn Fabray. If she was….

A night with Quinn. One night, one call. Heat rushed through her body again and Rachel struggled to focus her suddenly glazed eyes on Noah's sparkling ones. A roguish grin was already plastered across his face, as though he knew he'd won. She narrowed her eyes.

"I think…if I were just a little less drunk, I would not be giving in to what I'm sure is actually a heinous plan that only appears appealing because you're so charming when you grin like that," she informed him seriously, and patted his chest lightly in the process.

Noah only chuckled and went to fish her cell phone from her purse, commenting, "You're probably right."

When he finally had the device in hand, Rachel snatched it from him and flipped through her contacts before she could think twice about this idea. Just as she had swallowed down the majority of her nerves and was about to hit the 'call' button, Noah put a hand on her shoulder to stop her and she huffed angrily at the interruption.

"What?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you out. But if you really want to set up a meeting with her at yours or her house and get twat swatted by your parents the whole night…." He raised his palms defensively and leaned back, and Rachel relented with a sigh.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked gently, and he perked up instantly.

XXXXXX

A voice that sounded eerily like Santana's was currently telling Quinn that she was acting like an old granny. It was a Saturday night, one of the last she would have in Lima for a while, and here she was, already in bed (well, actually _on_ bed; the AC was broke, so anything more than boy shorts and a tank top was just about killing her in the humidity and thus she was on the sheets rather than underneath them) and reading an old favorite: 'Pride and Prejudice.' Austen's style generally put her off, what with the page-long paragraphs and incessant rambling about who married who and when, but for some reason, the moment she read the first page, this particular book of hers had drawn her in and refused to spit her back out. She actually had two copies, since the one she was reading currently had gotten so worn down.

Anyway, the Santana voice was telling Quinn she was turning into a lame ass Lima Loser, sitting in at home on a Saturday night. There were parties she could've gone to, of course. A few graduation parties were being held rather late in the season, and then there were the high school parties—which, the idea of attending any of those was just disturbing at this point. Some bars would allow her in without checking ID, too, but she just hadn't been in the mood that evening. She just wanted some peace and quiet and—her phone to ring, of course.

Quinn didn't fight the urge to roll her eyes as she settled the book face down on her lap and stretched to reach her charging phone, certain she would soon have to set aside the book anyway in favor of going to pick up an intoxicated Ms. Judy Brinkley-Fabray. Sans the Fabray, these days, of course. The Santana voice made a point of reminding her just how lame it was that her _mother_ was out partying and _she_ was going to have to pick her up. It had happened more than once over this summer; hell, over this past year, and usually the call came around this time. Just when she had gotten to a good part, of course.

Which was why she was more than a little surprised to find that her caller ID did not, in fact, read 'Mom', but 'Rachel Berry.' Quinn almost dropped the phone, her hands immediately shaking and butterflies—more like bats—winged around her stomach in her nervous excitement. She was well aware that her reaction to what was probably a simple misdial was…well, pathetic, but she couldn't help herself.

It had been a year, three months, and twenty-eight days since Quinn had kissed Rachel in that choir room, and not a day had passed by in that time where she hadn't thought about when she would finally be able to do it again. There were days when the temptation was almost unbearable, but she managed to push herself through them. For Rachel's sake.

She had told Rachel nothing could happen between them at the time, because, well…it was true. They had both seen what Kurt had gone through, and just the thought of Rachel being treated the same way at the hands of Karofsky or some other puck-headed Neanderthal at that school made Quinn feel almost physically ill. She wanted to be with Rachel, but Lima was most definitely not the place to do it.

There was also the small matter of Quinn's financial control being in the hands of one Judy Brinkley, good Christian woman who reviled all sinners. Quinn had to secure her position at a good college, in case the revelation of her orientation led to another of those wonderful games she used to play with her parents. You know, the one where they set the timer on the microwave and she had thirty minutes to see how much of her belongings she could get into bags and out of the house before it went off?

It had been two months and seven days since graduation. Two months and seven days of pure freedom. She could've called Rachel at any point in those two months, could've stayed with her or Santana or Mercedes or someone until she went to Penn State if her mother kicked her out. It would've been on the down low without the day-to-day scrutinizing from peers they would have had to put up with at McKinley. So why hadn't Quinn called Rachel? Well, the same reason she hadn't answered the phone yet and was instead staring at it like an idiot.

Nerves. It had been a _year_, and Quinn had not only failed to give Rachel any kind of encouraging message in that year, but she had also cut off all contact from her entirely outside of glee club, too afraid of the enticement spending more time with her would've presented. What if Rachel had given up hope that Quinn wanted her? What if Rachel didn't want her at all? What if she thought what happened in the choir room was a mistake? What if she didn't want the same things as Quinn? What if—

_What if you don't answer the fucking phone in time and she thinks you hate her guts?_ the Santana voice barked.

She hit the green 'answer' button with haste and lifted it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Quinn? It's Rachel," the girl answered, a little uncertainly.

The blonde smiled. "Hey, what's up? Is everything okay?"

The question popped out of her mouth before she could think about it, but she actually was concerned. While Quinn had spent the past year ignoring Rachel and what happened between them, she hadn't seen the brunette making any attempt to do any differently, and it wasn't as though her voicemail was flooding with messages from her. She had been just as guilty of not calling as Quinn, so her immediate instinct was to worry that something bad had happened.

"Yes, everything's fine. I was wondering…." She trailed off, and left Quinn's heart to continue pumping away at this accelerated rate, waiting on tenterhooks to hear what Rachel was wondering about.

"Yeah?" she prompted, when she could take it no longer.

The brunette cleared her throat, and said with a little more confidence, "Could you maybe meet me at the Hampton tonight?"

The blonde felt her pulse throbbing in her neck and swallowed heavily. Meet Rachel at a hotel? That seemed rather dangerous, if the heat pooling in her abdomen just from the sound of her voice meant anything (and it most definitely did). But she found herself nodding eagerly anyway, ignoring that warning sign, and said, "Sure, I can be there in twenty."

"Great," Rachel replied, enthusiasm pumping up her voice and making Quinn smile on her end. "Room 241."

"Okay, I'll see you there." She paused, hesitating just a moment before asking for confirmation, "Hey, Rachel?" She bit her lip.

"Yes?"

"You're sure everything's okay?" she enunciated slowly, to be sure the other girl heard and understood that she was asking because she was genuinely concerned. She didn't want to meet up under false pretenses; Rachel had to know she cared about her.

The brunette took a breath and paused, as though she was deliberating her answer, and Quinn bit her lip to keep from prompting her to speak already.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just…need to see you," she said quietly, and Quinn's heart leapt right out of her chest.

She wanted so badly to say she needed to see Rachel, too, but what came out was something much less romantic, and she flinched almost as soon as she said it. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay. Bye."

There was an edge of nervousness to her voice this time, but Quinn was forced to let it go when the brunette hung up. At which point the blonde, in the safety of the privacy of her room, allowed herself a joyful fist pump and a yelp of elation before she bounded off the bed, book completely forgotten, and tore off her clothes as she leapt for the shower.

She made it quick, not wanting to be even a second late, but took a little bit of time fluffing up her golden hair, trying to settle it to look nice, but sexy at the same time. Clothing was easy; jeans and a form-fitting dark green tunic top would do the trick, and she put on some light makeup, placing just enough eye shadow around her hazel eyes to give them that smoky effect before she was out in her car with sweaty palms and a racing heart, on her way to the Hampton Inn and a meeting with Rachel.

XXXXXX

Rachel was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all, which she assumed could only mean she was sobering up. It had been about forty minutes since her last drop of alcohol, so it only made sense. She briefly considered ordering some liquid courage from the front desk before discarding the idea as idiotic. The hotel would be much more likely to card her than Noah's uncle, and she was supposed to be meeting Quinn for sex, not getting arrested for the first time in her young life.

Meeting Quinn for sex. The fragment was starting to sound more and more ridiculous, and Rachel knew for certain she was sobering up. And yet, she wasn't leaving. She wasn't sure why, exactly, other than the fact that Quinn had agreed to come and she was. She didn't want to leave her high and dry, but this also meant she needed another excuse for asking to meet her.

Unfortunately, she still hadn't reached a point of sobriety where she could come up with a longer list than 'sex.'

She considered going into the sizable bathroom and splashing some cold water over her face to wake her up a bit more and clear her thought processes entirely, but before she was halfway out of the ruby armchair by the window, there was a knock on the door.

Rachel shot to her feet instantly and smoothed down the shirt of her 'bar outfit.' It was a simple, spaghetti-strap midnight blue top with form-fitting black jeans, and she had always been fond of the apparel. Tonight was the first night she had ever seen flaws when she looked down at it, and she struggled to stop herself from needlessly flattening nonexistent wrinkles in the material. She only succeeded when she went to fluff her hair up, and then obsessively smooth it back down.

The knock was a little more forceful this time, and Rachel sprung into action, taking several calming breaths before she gradually opened the door to find the most deliciously sexy looking Quinn Fabray standing on the other side she had ever seen. She honestly had not thought it was possible for the blonde to look any sexier than she already was before tonight, but then again, this was Quinn Fabray. Her beauty seemed to know no bounds.

Any air that had been in Rachel's lungs in preparation for a friendly greeting had completely left the building, and she was left staring at the blonde with wide eyes, taking in those long legs encased in skin tight jeans, and the voluptuous curves the skin-tight tunic followed over her torso, the plump, tempting red lips and bedroom eyes and—bedroom _hair_, too. Not that it was by any means messy, but it was hanging down in these bouncy curls and…God, Rachel needed to sit down before she fell down.

"Hey," Quinn said breathlessly, a smile forming around her words.

Rachel cleared her throat of the huskiness she was absolutely positive it had taken on. It didn't help when she answered, "Hi. Come in."

The blonde slipped past her into the room and the brunette turned to close the door, taking the moment she'd been granted to slow her breathing and calm herself a little bit. When she had finally composed herself enough to face Quinn, she found the former cheerleader looking around the room, eyes lingering on the bed for a moment before she turned to Rachel, and the diva's temperature spiked yet again at the realization that the blonde's pupils had dilated. Could she possibly…?

Before she could finish the thought, Quinn said lightly, "So. Why did you want to meet?"

Rachel knew it wasn't her imagination, even in her slight drunkenness. She wasn't imagining that the blonde's voice had dipped when she asked that, the almost suggestive undertone to it. And she didn't know whether she was ecstatic or heartbroken that Quinn knew exactly why she'd called her, exactly why they were meeting at a hotel, and that she wanted it, too. Well, all right, she was definitely ecstatic about the last part.

She was leaning toward heartbroken on the one-night stand front, though she reminded herself that this was the deal. It's what they both wanted. A night together, no strings attached, just unrestrained passion. She worked herself up with those thoughts, how she would get to touch Quinn in places no one else had, how they would kiss and moan and she would get to see Quinn Fabray come completely undone in her arms, get to make her make noises no one else had heard her make. How Quinn would return the favor.

And she suddenly had enough courage and arousal built up to step closer, hips swaying with the movement, and say lowly, "I think you know why."

Rachel looked straight past the confusion in Quinn's eyes and directly to the arousal evident at the tone she'd used. Her eyes went even darker, and the brunette made approximately her third bold move of the evening in slinking inexorably closer, into the blonde's space. She didn't move away, only eyeing the diva curiously, her chest starting to heave as Rachel drew nearer, their body heat meshing and seeming to electrify the space between them. The brunette felt as though she'd never been farther away from a person in her entire life—which was, of course, ridiculous. Their bodies were mere inches apart at this point, and she was eclipsing that distance even now.

Quinn lowered her head almost involuntarily as Rachel halted, staring straight at her ultimate goal: those plump, luscious lips, which parted under the weight of heavy pants in wait for the brunette's touch. She cautiously lifted a hand and burrowed it under the mass of golden locks to cup the base of her neck, pressing only firmly enough to deliver her message, and the blonde obeyed, tilting their foreheads together, though the diva still kept their lips an aching few centimeters apart, intent on memorizing and milking every last second of this night. The pace was too slow for Quinn, however, as she whimpered pleadingly, "Rach…."

Rachel couldn't handle the wait after that, after hearing her name spoken _like that_ by the impatient blonde. She dipped down and melded their lips together, and shuddered with relief. Quinn's lips were as soft and perfect as she remembered—more so, even—and the brunette's arousal, which had been a semi-conscious presence almost since Noah suggested this to her, now took on a life of its own, and she was clutching at the blonde's hair and neck with both hands now, kissing her with a desperation she'd only felt once in her entire life, feeling a perfection she'd been craving ever since her first and only taste of it.

Quinn wasn't idle, either. Her kiss, while at first chaste and sweet, had escalated in heat along with Rachel's, and it wasn't long before she was sweeping her hands over the brunette's bare arms, leaving goose bumps in her wake, before grasping frantically at her waist as she smoothed her tongue along the brunette's full lower lip, begging entrance she was almost instantly granted. They moaned almost simultaneously as their tongues greeted one another before the blonde made her claim on the brunette's mouth and lost patience yet again.

Rachel couldn't find it within herself to complain when Quinn grabbed her hips in a tight hold that somehow failed to inspire pain, but only more excitement as the blonde practically lifted her and pushed her back into the door, turning feral in demeanor. Their bodies pressed tight together, breasts shown no mercy between them as they scrambled to be as close as was molecularly possible, the diva finding herself strangely even wetter at the feel of being pinned to the door by the wicked blonde currently sucking on her tongue. The brunette whimpered in protest as she felt a hand leave her hip, only to issue a louder one when the former cheerleader pulled away entirely, pupils blown, but expression wavering with uncertainty and concern.

"Rachel," was all she got out before the singer stole another kiss, refusing to be away from Quinn's touch for even a moment. The blonde moaned when her tongue touched her lips, lifting the hand that had abandoned her hip to cup and caress soothingly at her cheek before gently levering them apart with that same hand. Rachel's eyelids fluttered when she tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers whispering across her skin and driving the brunette mad with need.

Quinn successfully kept her away long enough to inquire in a voice riddled with worry, "Are you drunk?"

Rachel's eyes snapped fully open, focusing in on the beautiful woman in front of her and wanting nothing more than to pick up where they left off before she had tasted the alcohol on the slightly inebriated brunette's tongue. She almost said yes, simply because she was drunk—just not on alcohol any longer. Her intense arousal had washed away any fuzziness from her earlier drinks, leaving her in a haze of lust that Quinn herself had cast. And if they stopped now, Rachel thought she might die.

So she answered the concern in hazel eyes with a brief shake of her head, and explained, "I had a couple drinks with Noah about an hour ago. That's all."

Before Quinn could protest any further, Rachel closed the unacceptable distance between their lips again, this time laying her own claim to the blonde, drawing a low, guttural moan from her throat as she rolled her tongue along the roof of her mouth. She literally could not decide which part of Quinn she wanted to touch most, though with their bodies pressed so close together, her options were more limited. Nonetheless, she kept one hand nestled in the mess of golden locks, while the other swept down to rub her back and the curve of her hip, smiling into the blonde's lips when she felt a shudder travel down her spine.

Somewhere in between the pants, gasps, and moans, Rachel heard a lock clicking into place before Quinn's hands focused their attention back on the brunette's hips, sliding up beneath her top to pass scalding palms over the already burning skin of her toned abdomen. The singer moaned, arching into the blonde's touch and unintentionally breaking the kiss, though Quinn certainly didn't take that badly. Her mouth traveled downward instead, leaving wet, sticky marks against Rachel's chin, jaw, neck—anywhere she could reach—while the brunette could only close her eyes tight and moan, tugging the tunic top up over her hips and racing deft fingers teasingly over the flesh she uncovered between the scrunched shirt and the waistband of her jeans.

The blonde growled, sending a fresh pool between Rachel's legs, before she grabbed at her hips again, wheeling her away from the door and toward the bed, only grinding to a halt when the brunette's legs hit the mattress. There she stopped them and spread a trail of nips and licks back up to the singer's mouth, reclaiming her lips in a bruising kiss that had her reaching to cup the blonde's cheeks just to have some purchase on reality. Quinn, however, had reached between them, scooting the brunette's top farther and farther up her body and running her hands reverently over every bit of newly exposed tan skin.

Their lips parted just enough for the silky fabric of Rachel's top to slip through, and as soon as it was over her head and flung aside, they returned to each other with renewed vigor, the blonde yanking her body back into hers and claiming her new territory with possessive hands. The brunette's arms settled around Quinn's neck, clutching the green fabric on her back and pulling, wanting to see more of her porcelain skin, feel it against her own, leaving Quinn just as exposed as Rachel felt at the moment in only her jeans and black bra. The blonde took the hint, reluctantly parting with the singer's skin to lift her own shirt with a little help, and when Rachel dodged her lips as they descended to get another taste, she diverted to her neck and laved her tongue over the honey skin while the brunette smoothed her hands over delectably soft skin.

She tried not to let the blonde's ministrations distract her from her explorations, intent on sculpting every inch of her with her hands, but Quinn grew impatient again, diving for her lips and pressing her backward. She kept an arm scooped beneath the brunette's back as she lowered her gradually to the bed, and only when she had Rachel pinned below her on the rather comfortable mattress did Quinn slow down at last, breaking their kiss to let both parties gulp in much needed air, and taking advantage of her position hovering over the diva to let her gaze wander.

Rachel hardly noticed the hazel eyes traveling over her half-naked torso, as she was busy doing a little perving herself. Quinn's porcelain skin took on an almost amber hue in the hotel's lamplight, but the lighting did little to affect the redness of her lips and the area around them, and the brunette couldn't help but wonder if that was from lipstick or the pressure of their kisses. In either case, they were definitely swollen from their heated unions with Rachel's own tingling lips.

She was still clad in her white bra, but the way she was standing on her hands and knees above the brunette gave her a lovely glimpse into her cleavage, her breasts heaving with the effort of drawing in breaths she'd been depriving herself of for so long. Rachel couldn't see one stretch mark on those glorious abs that appeared as untouched as before the girl's pregnancy, and she almost smiled at the thought that maybe Quinn had just been making it all up. Either way, she was the most beautiful thing Rachel had ever seen.

She reluctantly dragged her gaze back up her body, licking her lips when she again peeked at her full breasts before finally meeting the blonde's fully blown pupils once more. Beyond the lust and general arousal in Quinn's expressive hazel eyes, there was something else. Rachel read it to the best of her ability, coming away only with impressions of deep concern and affection, and she felt her heart flutter at the idea that the former cheerleader truly cared about her.

Still, she grew concerned herself when the blonde reached up stroke her hair back away from her face, slowly and almost deferentially, as though she were putting the last domino in place, or straightening the position of her beloved cross. Rachel's brow furrowed as she completed the motion and returned to simply gazing down at her, silent.

"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, cupping her cheek warmly with one hand, while the other rubbed idle patterns on Quinn's side.

The blonde shuddered, grabbing the hand on her cheek before it could retreat and placing a reverential kiss on her palm, and Rachel's concern only grew as she was treated with a soft, warm smile before Quinn sank down against her, careful not to crush her under her weight, and closed her eyes as she brushed their lips delicately together. The brunette was mildly confused by this sudden change of pace from the formerly hurried one the blonde had set before, but she didn't protest. She didn't want to.

In fact, Rachel wasn't quite sure which way had turned her on more, though she eventually decided that since the amount of passion in Quinn's kisses was equal, so was her arousal. She brushed her musings aside as the blonde carefully pried her mouth open to her tongue, exploring her more languidly now as her hands busied themselves with Rachel's own. She had been shuddering a great deal at the brunette's gently drawn patterns on her back, just beneath her bra strap, but she still eased her arms away and above her head, smoothing her hands down the tanned appendages until their fingers joined and entwined, their palms burning into each other, a blend of porcelain and honey.

They maintained this position as long as Rachel could take it—which wasn't long. She could feel herself throbbing, aching to feel Quinn inside her, and it was driving her crazy. She squeezed the fingers wrapped around her own, arching her body into Quinn's, and pressed her legs around the blonde's thigh, hoping desperately that she would take the hint. It took only a moment for the former cheerleader first to gasp, presumably at the heat from Rachel's core pushing into her thigh, and then smile into the kiss before pulling gradually away. Her hands rubbed back down her arms, and the brunette arched her back again to aid Quinn as she reached to undo the clasp of her bra, but the blonde did nothing until Rachel met her eyes and gave her one solid nod of consent.

Rachel's heart ached at her consideration, but she forced herself to push aside any lingering thoughts of sorrow that this would be it for them. That in the morning, it would be over. Instead she focused on running her own hands over Quinn's twitching abs, eager to feel them under her tongue, and on the awed look covering the blonde's face at the sight of the brunette's exposed breasts. She felt herself beginning to blush, which was ridiculous because she'd known this moment was coming and yet…she wasn't prepared for it.

Her quest to avoid showing signs of her shy embarrassment was completely thwarted when Quinn whispered breathlessly, "You're so beautiful," and bent to brush two kisses over her lips before ghosting them down her neck and offering light kisses to her collarbone before finally reaching her breasts. Rachel gasped and moaned simultaneously as soon as she felt the blonde's tongue touch tentatively to her hardened nipple, involuntarily tangling a hand in silky hair to keep her in place.

This reaction to her experimental lick seemed to give Quinn more courage, because then the warm cavity of her mouth was covering Rachel's breast and she gasped and moaned and writhed beneath her fervent attentions, nearly crying out when the blonde smoothed a hand over her ribs and began gently kneading the unattended breast, thumb coming up to circle her nipple while she swirled her tongue around the one on the other side. It was only when she went to switch up sides that the brunette decided to intervene and put a stop to this sweet torture, tugging at her hair and leaning up to pull her into a frantic kiss that the former cheerleader responded to instantly.

Rachel kept that hand at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair and keeping her in place as she spread feather light kisses down her jaw, and relishing in the shiver that traveled down Quinn's spine when she reached her neck. Her other hand slipped up the blonde's back, pausing at the clasp just as she had done for her, only she couldn't bring herself to move away from that luscious neck, sucking her pulse point like a starving woman while Quinn panted and whimpered, grabbing the arm teasing at her bra clasp and giving it an encouraging squeeze. Rachel flicked it without hesitation and reluctantly tore away from her neck to help rid her of the restricting garment, only to find she had completely lost the ability to move when she caught sight of Quinn's breasts, exposed and uninhibited.

The blonde flung it aside herself, and it was only when she cleared her throat that the brunette realized she had been staring—much the way Quinn had before. Her cheeks went pink again, but she grew braver when she saw the flush on Quinn's own cheeks and the shy smile gracing her delicious lips. Rachel pulled her back down for a searing kiss, only breaking it to murmur boldly, "You're so gorgeous, Quinn," before bringing her back in.

While she had the blonde's lips occupied, she ran her free hand over those abs, silently promising them she would get there later, before easing upward and fully palming her breast. Quinn gasped out against her lips and leaned into her touch, and Rachel took advantage of her weakness to slide her other hand to the opposite breast, running her thumbs in circles around her pink nipples in much the same way the blonde had done it to her, while her mouth went back to its duties on the pale neck, sucking and licking and kissing her way up and down and across the expanse of skin.

Quinn was panting and moaning in her ear, her hot breaths washing over Rachel's neck and making her so wild with excitement she was sure she would lose control, but the blonde beat her to it, snatching her hands away and kissing her soundly before gasping, almost apologetically, "I can't stand it anymore."

Rachel watched in wide-eyed anticipation as the blonde slid down her body and off the bed, shucking off her own shoes and socks before reaching for the brunette's sandals. She helped, kicking them off and aside, and Quinn smiled at her before unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down pale, skinny legs that had Rachel licking her lips and strengthening the persistent throbbing between her thighs. Before she could continue to appreciate the blonde's…assets, she was clambering back over her and straddling her legs, pausing with her hands at the button to the brunette's jeans.

It took Rachel a moment to see beyond the panties currently sitting on her thighs, but once she realized what the hold up was, she nodded her permission and Quinn undid the button with a flourish, but slowed once she reached the zipper. It felt like she was pulling it down notch-by-notch, and it was agonizing—so much so that Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally undone, only to groan with frustration when the blonde smirked and took the process of peeling the jeans from her legs just as slowly. When they were, at long last, at her feet, she kicked them off irritably and went to reach for Quinn, but the blonde had other ideas.

She caught her right leg and lifted it almost to her shoulder, a delighted sparkle in her hazel eyes as she rubbed her talented hands down her calf, massaging the muscle into relaxation. Rachel sighed with pleasure at the goose bumps rising beneath the blonde's hands, but her questioning look received only a smirk, and she was left in the dark as to Quinn's plans. Deciding it would be best to simply let her have her way, she let her head fall back on the mattress and closed her eyes to enjoy, only wavering in that decision when she felt a pair of warm lips press against her ankle bone, followed by the swirl of a tongue.

Rachel's eyes flew open and her head shot up, and she was met with mischievous hazel eyes that twinkled at her as that gifted, open mouth started easing its way down her leg, taking her time in familiarizing herself with the uncharted territory. The brunette was panting by the time the blonde reached her knee, and then she switched legs to start the process over again, and she was shivering with need, but Quinn would have none of her pleading whimpers. Instead she spread her legs and eased between them, and at the first touch of Quinn's wet hot mouth on her inner thigh, Rachel's hips bucked and she gasped for air, stunned at the way the blonde's attention to her _legs_, of all things, was driving her _crazy_.

"God, Quinn," she murmured, tempted to snatch the nearest pillow just to silence her embarrassing, impassioned noises.

The temptation grew when she felt Quinn press another slow, warm kiss to her other inner thigh before asking almost conversationally, "Do you have any idea—" another kiss, an inch upward "—how much I fantasize about these legs?"

Rachel's entire body tensed up when the blonde went back to the right thigh and rewarded her with another kiss when she rapidly shook her head. Quinn sighed, wistfully.

"Almost constantly," she answered, going another inch up. "I think about them entwined with mine, after I've made you come until you can't remember your own name." Another kiss and Rachel started to whimper, because, God almighty, who knew Quinn could talk _like that_? "I think about them around my waist, while I'm driving into you with a strap-on." She was nearing the place Rachel wanted her most at this point, but she stopped, licking a torturously slow line up the sensitive flesh of her left thigh, and the brunette squirmed, biting her lip. "I think about them wrapping around my head while I go down on you," she purred, and Rachel just about exploded from her words alone.

She was literally trembling by this point, and she couldn't help it when she blurted, "Quinn, _please_."

The blonde pressed a parting kiss to each of her thighs and moved swiftly up her body, laying half over her and placing soothing kisses all over her face, even caressing her cheekbone with a calming thumb before murmuring, "What do you need, baby? Tell me."

Rachel moaned, because Quinn calling her 'baby' was just about the most agonizingly wonderful thing she had ever heard. "You're driving me crazy. I can't take it anymore, I need you inside of me."

At this point, she wasn't even ashamed of the shake in her voice as she said this, the pleading in her tone. She wanted Quinn—_badly_—and she wanted her now. She had nothing to be embarrassed of anyway, evidently, as Quinn's eyes fluttered closed and she shuddered at her words, moving to kiss her—it was only then that Rachel realized how much she'd missed the blonde's lips—before whispering against them, "God, you're so sexy," and slipping back down her body to peel away her panties. Thankfully without the dramatics she had used to remove her jeans.

Without even being asked, Quinn stripped off the last of her own clothing so they were even, and then she looked down at Rachel's most private place, and the brunette instantly became self-conscious, wanting to squeeze her thighs together and hide, because nobody had seen her in all her naked glory since she was a baby, which was much, _much_ different. It was only when she spied the change of Quinn's expression, going from lustful to just plain _hungry_ (there was a slight difference, which involved excessive lip-licking), that Rachel started to relax, though her body tensed all over again when the blonde moved to kiss her thighs again.

"Wait, I—I need you up here," she blurted, feeling herself go red all over again when those hazel eyes landed on her.

A small pout puckered her lips. "I want to taste you."

Her eyes fluttered and she shivered at the image this brought to mind, but still she shook her head, whimpering, "Please." And Quinn reluctantly bypassed her lower half; she was rewarded with a hungry kiss when she arrived at Rachel's lips, which she took her time reacquainting herself with while they readjusted: the blonde's arm scooping beneath the brunette's back, the diva's legs spreading open for the former cheerleader's easier access, and Quinn's leg looping over one of Rachel's.

Rachel heard herself gasp when she felt the evidence of Quinn's arousal press into her thigh, and found herself wondering if the blonde would last through the brunette's orgasm with the amount of wetness she had already gathered. It was pushed to the back of her mind when she felt the hand lazily caressing her cheek and neck start to ease down her chest, lightly brushing her breasts on the way down, making her shiver and quietly whine as the blonde finally reached her destination.

The brunette cried out involuntarily when she felt the former cheerleader's fingers brush her clit, breaking her lips away from Quinn's as her hips rocked for more friction. The blonde knew damn well by now that she didn't need more buildup, but she was thorough: dipping two fingers down to collect some wetness and spread it through her already dripping folds, rubbing her clit up and down and in slow circles and—Rachel honestly lost track of her patterns because it all felt so _damn good_ and she couldn't stop moaning into Quinn's neck and clutching to her body, barely leaving her arm enough room to maneuver her hand down below, and all the while the blonde merely kissed the side of her head and murmured soothing things to her that, for all the brunette knew, were in Italian, because she was so focused on the brilliant hand doing wonderful things to her and she could barely hear anything above the pounding of her own heart anyway.

At some point, she realized that Quinn was trying to catch her gaze, and the haze cleared enough for her to realize that the blonde had her thumb still circling her clit, but two fingers were teasing at her entrance, hesitant to go in. Rachel quickly realized her concern and simply couldn't help herself. She attacked her with a fiery, loving kiss that left the blonde panting and smiling, almost to the point of looking goofy.

"You won't hurt me," the brunette whispered, cupping her cheek with a sweaty hand. "I'm not…anymore." Quinn's brow arched quizzically, and Rachel answered the question in her eyes with a shake of her head. "Long story. Please?" She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Quinn. I need you," she murmured persuasively, and the blonde shivered, capturing her lips at the same time as she plunged two fingers inside, swallowing the brunette's moan of ecstasy.

Rachel threw her head back and out of the kiss when she could breathe no more, and Quinn planted her kisses to her extended neck while maintaining her steady, unrelenting rhythm below. The brunette's hips rocked into her every thrust, almost unconsciously, because trapped in her own head, Rachel couldn't stop marveling at how magnificent Quinn felt inside her tight heat, and at how Quinn was the one doing this to her, and at how close she was getting to heaven without actually spontaneously combusting.

It was only when she realized that Quinn's hips were subtly beginning to rock against her own thigh that she was taken out of her fog of pleasure enough to work at reciprocating the magic the blonde was working on her body. She slipped a hand between them and fumbled blindly for a moment until Quinn stilled with a gasp of realization, and Rachel entered her easily when she saw the look of utter _need_ on the blonde's face. She experimentally scissored her fingers and Quinn articulated that beautiful, arousal-inducing growl of hers before renewing her own thrusts into the brunette beneath her.

They moved frantically together after this, all sloppy kisses and pumping hands and rocking hips and sweat and moans of 'more', 'harder', 'faster', with their names and God's featuring heavily, and Rachel noticed somewhere around the third time she moaned the blonde's name that it made her walls clench in around her fingers, bringing her that much closer to climaxing, and in turn, Quinn found her spot, that one place that made her cry out without fail, every time she rubbed her fingers against it, and soon the former cheerleader was thrusting and pressing mercilessly against it, eliciting a string of, "Quinn, Quinn; oh, God, _Quinn_, there, _more_" from the singer underneath her, and they fell off the edge together, uttering each other's names and clinging desperately to one another as they rode out of the waves of pleasure.

Both were panting heavily when it was finally over, and Rachel tried valiantly to maintain the eye contact Quinn had been keeping with her since she came, but her eyes were fluttering closed and her body was going limp, trying to drag her into a restful slumber she didn't want—because that meant it would be over, and she so badly didn't want it to be.

Quinn somehow managed to drag herself up from her position half on top of the brunette and coaxed her to crawl to the head of the bed. Rachel really wasn't sure how she managed it, but the next thing she knew, her head was on a heavenly pillow and a white sheet was being tugged over her, and the last thing she remembered was struggling to return the kiss that was pressed to her lips before everything went dark.

XXXXXX

The first thing that entered Quinn's awareness the next morning was that she was alone. She didn't have to open her eyes to realize this; there was no extra weight on the mattress and no heat from another body warming the sheets next to her; it was also silent enough to dissuade the notion that Rachel was merely taking a shower. But the blonde didn't want to accept it, so it wasn't until her eyes snapped open and she took in the emptiness of the bed that her heart clenched painfully and her stomach dropped.

She sat up abruptly, pressing the sheet to her naked chest despite the fact that she was quite obviously on her own, with no one to hide from, and fought the burn of anguished tears as she hopelessly began to scan the room. It didn't make any sense. Why would Rachel just leave? Last night had been…God, it was amazing. In truth, Quinn hadn't expected things to go that far between them just yet, but she hadn't been complaining, either. She had hoped that, this morning, they could seriously discuss what was happening between them and (hopefully) start a relationship, but that was more than an impossible task if Rachel wasn't even there.

Quinn swallowed down a sob, wondering what she possibly could have done last night to make the brunette leave. Had she read the signals wrong? Had she pushed her into something she wasn't ready for? Did she _say_ something that—

"Rachel," she choked, half in startled surprise and half in tears.

The brunette had just exited the bathroom, from the looks of things, and she had just slipped on one of her sandals when the blonde's voice froze her before she even finished saying her name. Quinn didn't know what to say. She thought she left? Why didn't she wake her? Why was she dressed? 'I love you'?

As per usual, when it seemed the most important moment for her to say something, words failed to make it to the blonde's mouth, and Rachel was gradually recovering from being caught. She straightened, slipping on her other sandal and clearing her throat, running a hand through her beautiful brunette locks in order to smooth them down.

"I, uh…I have to go," she said softly, and Quinn felt her heart wrench for the second time that morning when she noticed that the diva wasn't meeting her eyes as she spoke. She swallowed. "I have some last-minute packing to do, and—"

"So, that's it?" she interrupted before she could stop herself, and she hated how heartbroken she sounded when she rasped, "You're just…leaving?"

Rachel's inquisitive brown eyes met Quinn's for the first time that morning, and the blonde's breath was completely taken away, as it had been so many times before by those beautiful eyes, but somehow it was different this time. Those were _her_ eyes, this time. She had seen the way they fluttered out of view when she kissed her legs, the way they closed when she was being pleasured—as though she was trying to shut everything else out and just _feel it_, the way they filled with so much lust and adoration and…she might've said love, before this morning, when they landed on Quinn's.

The brunette's brow was furrowed, her head tilted, and she said cautiously, "This was goodbye."

It sounded more like a question than a statement, but it didn't matter to Quinn's ears, or heart. She dug her teeth fiercely into her bottom lip, distracting herself with the pain that action brought about to stop herself from crying. Because she would cry—but not in front of Rachel. She wouldn't let her see how badly she had just crushed her, wouldn't let her see how weak and helpless she felt without her. Ever.

Her fingernails dug into the sheet against her chest, trying to hold her heart in one piece long enough for Rachel to leave. But she wasn't going. She was standing at the door, facing it, but she hadn't gone through, and for once, Quinn just wanted her to get out, so she could burrow in her own misery.

But then Rachel whipped around, and Quinn's heart clenched for entirely different reasons. There were tears streaming down the brunette's cheeks that she tried in vain to wipe away, and there was so much despair in her own expression that Quinn briefly forgot about her own. And when she remembered it, all she felt was confused, until Rachel whimpered, "Please don't hurt me, Quinn."

It took her a moment to process. And then she realized—Rachel wasn't rejecting her because she _wanted_ to. She was protecting herself from Quinn doing exactly what she had a year, three months, and twenty-nine days ago. She was preventing the hurt of Quinn walking away before she could even attempt to.

Quinn was off the bed in record time, sheet wrapped around her body, and before Rachel could blink, she was crushed to the blonde's chest, enfolded in a warm embrace that she instantly melted into. The former cheerleader could only stroke her hair in her attempts to soothe the girl suddenly sobbing into her bare shoulder, and she felt her own repressed tears start to spring forward in response to the salty wetness on her skin. She bit her lip to quell them, and waited until Rachel's cries had quieted.

"Never again."

The brunette's head lifted from her chest, her brow knit adorably again as she queried, "What?"

Quinn locked gazes with her, repeating firmly, "I'll never hurt you, Rachel. I promise." She worried her lip between her teeth. What the hell. "I love you."

Rachel's mouth dropped open in stunned surprise, but her eyes had brightened and fresh tears were spilling down her cheeks as she held tighter to the blonde's sheet. "I love you," she echoed breathlessly, and Quinn could not stop herself.

She pulled the brunette into her body and captured her lips hungrily, an ache settling in her abdomen as she realized how much she had missed Rachel's lips just since last night. And just as she was preparing to put off a serious conversation about their relationship in order to do what she did last night all over again, the brunette broke away and resisted the pull of her hands on her hips.

"Wait, wait," she gasped, and Quinn promptly pouted.

"But we did it last night," she mumbled, but her sour response instantly melted when Rachel laughed and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

"And we can do it again," she assured her, and Quinn perked up. Rachel's smile turned wry. "But first I need to call Noah and thank him for the advice."


End file.
